


Isolophobia

by CatlixMeowscouty



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Camp AU, Depression, F/M, M/M, Vomiting tw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-25
Updated: 2016-05-25
Packaged: 2018-06-10 17:49:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6967078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CatlixMeowscouty/pseuds/CatlixMeowscouty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Isolophobia- {noun}; the fear of isolation.. of being abandoned.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Isolophobia

He hears them whispering at night. In the counselor cabin they all have separate bunks (like that stops them from bunking together) with stiff, dry sheets that irritate his skin. But there’s no walls in between, no way to block the noises coming from the 7 others who occupy the room.

He knows they’re talking about him. He thinks it’s irrational to even come to that conclusion, that they’re probably talking about the last finals exam or telling a funny story but Matt can’t see straight when he hears a whispered sentence, followed by harsh silence.

“His smile isn’t there anymore, Lawrence, and it’s definitely not as bright as it used to be.”

Matt feels like he can’t breathe anymore and he can feel a sting behind his eyelids, but he swears he won’t open them because he’s supposed to be asleep and they can’t know that he hasn’t gotten a full night’s rest for days.

He thinks about how he can always feel them staring at him with what he can only think of as hateful eyes (he doesn’t see them long enough to see the worried, the care, the sheer hope in them).

When they head to lunch, they always invite him along with open arms and happy faces but he declines, rushing back to their cabin as fast as he can and locking himself in the bathroom. He kneels, throwing up the meager amount in his stomach and his hand always automatically reaches for the loose tile he KNOWS is there only to not find it.

He vomits more at the idea that they know and that they found his blades, his coping method, his sanity. By the time the rest of the gang is back, he’s in his bed with dried tears on his face, wishing he was home.

It goes on for weeks before anyone even approaches him about it. It leaves him emptier than before and he can’t get the image of Elyse and Adam’s faces, and how they looked like they were approaching an injured doe.

For some reason, though, afterwards he doesn’t feel as lonely and he actually sleeps, clutching the quilt Joel had made all those years ago.

He got better, he thinks, as the others get more and more confidence, making him eat and keeping an eye on him. They take turns sitting or laying on his bunk, rubbing his back and whispering reassuring things until he falls asleep.

It works for awhile.

But he wonders how fucked up you need to be to be unraveled by a stupid fucking sentence like he is. His breathing gets harsh and sharp and he can’t get enough air and soon enough he’s crying and he can’t stop and-

“Matt?” He hears Adam say, and he breaks.

“I’m sorry, I should’ve- you need sleep I’ll just- I’m sorry-” he rambles, breathing raggedly and sitting up sharply, ignoring the pain in his head (and in his heart). He feels arms fold around him, keeping him flush against someone- Bruce’s?- chest and the others rush around.

He mumbles sorry until Elyse kneels down, cupping his face with too gentle hands and murmuring sweet nothings, how THEY’RE the ones sorry and how he’s not useless and other lies but he calms down nonetheless, leaning into her touch and shrinking under the others’ scared, worried gazes.

He falls asleep like that, in Bruce’s arms with Elyse’s stroking his tear-stained cheeks. When he wakes up, he’s greeted by scrambled eggs and jellied toast and hot chocolate (‘the greatest hot cocoa in all the land’ as Sean advertises it) and the worried, hopeful faces of his friends.

And maybe, he thinks, things will get better.

And they do. Many summers pass of sweet nothings at night and soft kisses and finally he’s happy. He eats the food Spoole makes, helps James with setting up activities for the kids and builds a slide for the lake.

In his last summer there, many many years later, he sits with the others on the bank, sharing stories and s'mores and smiles, kisses, hugs.. tears. And he reflects back on those years when he didn’t think he was worth it.

Yeah. Things got better, he thinks as he hooks an arm with Adam’s and leans to kiss Lawrence on the cheek.

Everything gets better.


End file.
